


A motherly intervention

by Bumbleberry



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 19:45:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumbleberry/pseuds/Bumbleberry
Summary: ‘‘Dean.’’ Cas chastises as though he were talking to a small child. The perpetrator grins back, wrinkles settling around his eyes at the joy of aggravating his friend. When a second cheerio hits him on the nose he narrows his eyes and flicks a return one back that somehow sails completely past his target and lands in Mary’s hair-Basically Mary meets Cas and sees how hopelessly soft he and Dean are on each other so sets about making destiel a reality.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic, wish me luck. Many apologies for the atrocious change of tense mid paragraph. I need to sort myself out, I know.

The stranger staggered further towards her, seemingly oblivious to the gun she waved warningly. How he had even gotten in the bunker bemused her, in just her short time here it had become apparent that it was a fortress, practically impenetrable. Amid mused dark hair and fervent blue eyes there was a lost almost desperate look about him. Still she kept the gun trained and shouted another caution for him to keep his distance which he diligently ignored. Catching him in the shoulder or perhaps leg would be enough to fell him without a fatal wound, he’d still be in fine fettle to be interrogated aft-  
And then Dean was racing between him and the gun, shouting for her to hold fire and that he was a friend; entirely nonplussed she lowered the gun with a frown.  
‘‘Dean.’’ The man burst with such familiarity and, even swathed in shock, obvious affection. Throwing his arms around him, the stranger folded Dean tightly against his chest. Pushing up slightly on his tiptoes he tucked his chin over her son’s shoulder and his eyes fluttered shut, fists clenched in dark flannel. Dean gave a genuine chuckle and clapped his palm against his back, allowing Blue eyes to cling for a moment longer. Mary watched this perplexing exchange, raising an eyebrow as she took in the faint flush in Dean’s ears and tight press of their chests together. ‘‘This is Castiel.’’ He turned to her with a proud smile, hand still gripping Castiel’s shoulder tightly. 

Mary found the angel intriguing. The naivety of a child but the body of a man, chin scruff and all. The tan trench coat being an integral part of Castiel; despite being mocked by her sons, he was adamant that it remained.  
One morning Mary found herself awoken by the familiar sound of feet pattering down the hallway; indicative of Sam’s return from his ritualistic morning run. Since her leave from heaven she’d found herself to be a much lighter sleeper, easily roused by the slightest disturbance. She dressed quickly, the bunker still not homely enough that she felt comfortable waltzing around in pyjamas, though her boys seemed unperturbed to be clad in only their underwear.  
Slinking to the kitchen she passed the biggest bathroom, catching a snippet of tuneless singing accompanied by the rhythmic thud of what sounded like a shampoo bottle against the wall. Smiling, she made two cups of coffee (Sam’s with almond milk and agave nectar of course) and held her own just below her chin, letting the hot steam condense against her throat. Hair still dripping and smelling vaguely of apple, Sam skips in, always spritely after exercise. The height and broad shoulders of both her boys are still foreign to her; unforgiving bands of muscle when they were just rolls of smiles and chubby cheeks months ago- to her at least. And yet the warm tentative smiles always seem familiar.  
Sitting across from her they lapse into quiet conversation, Mary always insatiable for anecdotes from their childhood, anything and everything she’d missed. Sam is midway through a tale of his elder brother being chased down an alley by a girl he’d just unceremoniously dumped when Dean himself shuffles in. He attempts to commandeer Sam’s coffee but spits it out with a grimace after one sip, mumbling something about ‘grass juice’. Mary assures him that she will set about making some ‘proper’ coffee to which he grunts a thanks. She brews a large pot, figuring that Cas will stumble in at some point. It had become apparent angels weren’t morning people. It’s another quarter of an hour before he graces then with his presence, by which time Sam has wandered off and Mary is trying to convince Dean that a day old takeaway burger is not suitable breakfast material. Cas does little more than huff a greeting and beeline straight for the coffee pot upon entering. Afore meeting Castiel, Mary was under some deluded impression that angels were modest self righteous entities clad in billowing white robes, tiny pearlescent halos fixed atop their heads. Castiel was anything but modest, currently bumbling about in an oversized AC/DC top and bee print boxers. Dean’s gaze was unashamedly running over his frame, even settling on his ass when he reached into a cabinet and the top rode up. Mary watched this amusedly, not for the first time considering that there was an unusual closeness to their friendship. Dean’s expression flickered from appreciative to a frown when Cas turns to join them seated around the table.  
‘‘Oi Cas isn’t that my shirt?’’  
The angel in question glances down at his own torso guiltily, still creased from where he had evidently slept in it.  
‘‘You know most people ask when they want to borrow something.’’  
‘‘Ah, of course Dean, um could I-’’  
‘‘Yes’’ Dean interrupts lazily, flicking through the newspaper too fast to be reading it. Cas smiles that fond half smile that Mary has learnt only Dean can earn, pushing a bowl of honey nut Cheerios across to the hunter and tucking into his own. Dean doesn’t comment on the gesture but begins to eat them which Cas seems to take as a thank you.  
‘‘I was unsure of whether you had already eaten Mary but I can prepare you something if you haven’t.’’  
She smiles at his concern but assures him that she ate earlier. He nods seriously and attempts to stack as many cheerios on his spoon as he can without them falling. A deep frown of concentration taking up his brow. He has his balancing act midway to his mouth when Dean flicks a milk sodden cheerio that hits him square in the forehead and his spoon clatters back to the bowl.  
‘‘Dean.’’ Cas chastises as though he were talking to a small child. The perpetrator grins back, wrinkles settling around his eyes at the joy of aggravating his friend. When a second cheerio hits him on the nose he narrows his eyes and flicks a return one back that somehow sails completely past his target and lands in Mary’s hair. Dean seems to take it on himself to avenge his mother’s dignity (even as she assures him it was never lost) by pelleting Cas with honey nut cheerios, the angel splutters indignantly and ducks under the table, coming up only to grab a handful and retaliate. Mary watches the battle from the doorway; caught between a maternal urge to intervene and enjoying actually seeing the pair laugh. Eventually Cas pulls Dean’s legs out from under the table and pins him to the floor, shoving a particularly milk soaked handful down his night gown. Even Mary has to laugh aloud at that, her son swiftly accusing her of treason and proclaiming that he will never fight for her honour again. Shoving Cas off, he brushes a few stray cheerios from his dark curls with a smirk even in defeat.  
‘‘Well played.’’ He concedes, letting Cas pull him to his feet.  
‘‘Your prize is... you get to clean up’’  
To which Cas shoots him a bitch face that says he is seriously considering making Dean do it himself but eventually snaps his fingers and the kitchen is spotless. 

Mary watched them whenever they were together, bemused as to how they were so oblivious to the other’s obvious affections. Dean would whine endlessly about Cas’s weekly gardening program and yet set it to record when he knew they would have to miss it. Even when they ate in a grimy 70’s diner with ripped red pleather seats and scratchy music, they’d sit side by side and when the burgers arrived (Dean’s with extra bacon and Cas’s with no mayo) without breaking conversation Cas would take Dean’s tomato and exchange his onions. And when Dean’s fries were almost finished he would tip the broken not quite burnt bits onto Cas’s plate and Cas would dip them in Dean’s ketchup because Dean always squeezed out too much. Considering how many dates she had been unable to tease him about and embarrass him in front of, Mary felt she deserved a chance. And so the intervention began. Subtly would be key, she thought, any inkling they had of what she was up to and she would surely be shut down, apparently the ‘d’ of Dean stood for denial


	2. Chapter 2

And the perfect opportunity reared it’s head almost exactly two weeks after she decided to begin operation ‘get Dean’s head out his ass.’  
A case up in North Dakota along the little Missouri River.  
‘‘So what, bunch of folks turn up dead? drowning? exsanguination? Give me something more Sammy.’’  
Sam rolls his eyes but pulls up the article, spinning the laptop round so Dean could read it.  
‘‘Mmmm floating livers, my fave.’’  
Huffing in slight disapproval, Cas leans over Dean’s shoulder to skim the page.  
‘‘So no actual corpses, per say, the livers being the only remains found, correct?’’ Sam nods, his hair bouncing. Mary had tried to insist on at a least a trim, just so it was out his eyes, but was refused adamantly, no matter how impractical she reminded him it was.  
‘‘Could it not just be animals? It’s weird but is it us weird?’’ Dean suggests this through a mouthful of burger, humming contentedly around each bite.  
‘‘There’s something off about this Dean, 14 intact livers appearing along the same stretch of water within days of each disappearance. And no other remains being found. An animal wouldn’t be that neat, they leave half eaten carcasses strewn about.’’  
Dean lazily shrugs his agreement and claps the angel next to him on the shoulder, grinning across at Mary and waggling his eyebrows.  
‘‘Road trip.’’ 

Dean had insisted on driving the majority of the 11 hour trip, only allowing Sam to switch when his hands were aquiver and the car kept veering left. It was then collectively voted (Dean excluded) that he should sit in the back with Cas and rest, Mary replacing him in the front. Intermittent green flickered by in the window and overhead a kite soared, racing the cars.  
She watched the ease with which Sam’s hand shifted on the clutch; the familiarity with which both he and Dean drove, a consequence of practically living on the road. A reverie dove its way into her mind; John running through the different pedals while she watched on from the backseat. It flicked interchangeably between an adolescent Sam and Dean voraciously leaning forward, completely enraptured in John’s words. He always wanted to teach his children to drive, he’d said to her one night when they’d worked their way through a bottle of wine, rosy cheeked and bright eyed.  
How he had actually taught them she’d never know.  
‘‘How old were you when you learnt to drive?’’ She tips her head to the side of the headrest so she can watch Sam answer.  
‘‘Oh god I dunno, maybe 15. But Dean, he was really young. Barely 13 when Dad put him behind the wheel.’’  
Mary glances back but the son in question has his mouth hanging open and does a half snuffle every other breath.  
‘‘I didn’t want that for you, for either of you.’’ Sam meets her gaze before he has to return his eyes to the road.  
‘‘I know that mom, things were... different to how they should have been.’’ 

Four hours later Mary awakens from her doze as they pull up outside a small cabin perched along the river.  
‘‘I don’t understand, aren’t we staying in a motel?’’  
‘‘Dean thought you’d like to stay in an actual house- of sorts.’’ Sam says this with a small smile pulling at his mouth like he secretly thinks it’s adorable that Dean cares.  
‘‘He is aware that I was a hunter long before him and stayed in much worse residences than a motel.’’ But even as she says it she can’t deny the beauty of the cabin and feels a genuine bubble of excitement. Wriggling around in her seat to tease Dean for his fussing, she beams at the sight that greets her. The elder Winchester has splayed well across his share of the backseat and his face is smashed against Castiel’s shoulder, mouth agape and hand fisted in the lapel of his trench coat. Cas himself flushes slightly as Sam chuckles at the sight of them.  
‘‘Why the hell didn’t you just shove him off? You’re lucky he didn’t drool on you.’’ A soft click gives away the inevitable photo Sam catches of them.  
‘‘He was uh- warm.’’ Pink has suffused into even Cas’s ears and his eyes flick nervously about as if he’s afraid they’ll scold him. Mary is of course delighted at this development she hasn’t even needed to dabble in.  
‘‘Don’t worry Cas,’’ she smiles at him ‘‘Probably the best sleep he’s had all week, on the shoulder of an angel.’’  
Dean starts to stir which is Mary and Sam’s cue to start unloading the bags if they want to avoid an embarrassed and therefore irritable Winchester. But once he’s pulled himself out the car and stretched, leaving time for his roseate cheeks to return to normal, Mary hugs him and thanks him for the gesture. The pink promptly returned.


	3. The cabin

The house was only gifted with three bedrooms but Castiel had maintained he could find the living room couch satisfactory for any required slumber. He was still in recovery after a pretty brutal encounter with a menopausal witch possessing a irritable disposition. Though it had occurred little under a month ago he still felt the effects of the spell twisting uncomfortably at his grace. Sam had assured him it would wear itself out with time but he felt somewhat incompetent.  
His ‘angel juice’ as Dean crudely put it, was still mostly intact but nearly every other day he would find himself exhausted and requiring a few hours of rest. For now he seemed spry and was keen to begin the case so they each embarked on separate journeys. With Cas’s people skills remaining somewhat ‘rusty’, he was allocated the less socially demanding job of scouting out the stretch of the river with abnormally high hepatic activity. The choice of cabin hadn’t been random, it looked out directly onto where two of the fourteen livers were discovered so was as good a place to start as any. Sam went to look at the bodies- or what was left of them, Dean to confer with the local Sheriff and Mary was to speak with several families of the deceased. 

‘‘So shall I start?’’ Sam had eagerly organised them all around the table as soon as the last to return, Mary, had shut the door, locking out the chill. Night had slunk in hours ago; trailing her glittered gown across the skies and sweeping up any lingering warmth.   
A unanimous vote concluded that everyone was far too enervated to even contemplate cooking and so pizza was due to arrive in 17 minutes. Dean knew exactly because he was entirely consumed with watching the clock, humming occasionally to spur his brother on as he ploughed through the facts from his day at the morgue. Dean ardently ignoring the disproving glares Cas was sending him at his lack of attention, drumming his fingers against the wood. Lulled by the tentative heat of the fire and soporific notes of Sam’s voice, Mary drifted into a heavy sleep, not even roused when Dean tore away from the table to grab the pizza from the door. 

Gold sheets coated the water as the sun rose steadily over the trees, spitting fire across the horizon. Only Castiel was awake to see it, coveting a deck chair on balcony and clutching a steaming mug of coffee. During the night someone had tucked a thick blanket around Mary’s sleeping frame and shoved a cushion under her head, still laying heavy against the table. Rising stiff and aching, she stretched uncomfortably and followed the scent of coffee onto the balcony. If Cas’s hair was any indication, he had slept on the sofa that night, the front almost entirely curled.   
‘‘I think I missed most of Sam’s talk last night.’’ She admits sheepishly, taking the offered mug of caffeine.   
A smile tugs half of Cas’s mouth up but he doesn’t open his eyes, letting the warmth settle against his skin.   
‘‘Shall I summarise?’’   
‘‘Please.’’   
‘‘With the livers, the mortician noted that they were almost entirely untouched which wouldn’t correlate with an animal attack as most animals would consume all entrails, liver included. Also there was a positive diatom analysis from every samples they took from the livers so each victim almost certainly died as a result of drowning and likely it would have occurred in this very river.’’  
Mary nodded slowly.  
‘‘So something is drowning people and presumably eating everything but the livers? I guess we are ruling out an adventurous mountain lion.’’ Cas’s lip quirks.  
‘‘I’d say so and also Dean spoke to the sheriff. They’ve had 16 missing people over the last 6 months so it’s probable to assume that most of them are the owners of the livers. Also all of the victims were relatively young with the eldest being 35, and all notably attractive according to Dean.’’   
Cas says this with a raised eyebrow and slight disgruntled huff which Mary doesn’t miss.   
‘‘Did you find anything interesting along the river?’’ She inquires.  
‘‘Any tracks there have been lost under footprints and dog tracks, even horse, I would guess there is a stables nearby.’’   
Mary wonders how to best interject her next question, it’s just the two of them out looking across the water, and her sons wouldn’t be up for at least another hour.   
‘‘You’ve know Sam and Dean a long time then,’’   
Cas glances up warily at the sudden topic change but she sips at her drink nonchalantly and he appears mollified.   
‘‘Well yes, since I raised Dean from perdition, I have remained with them for the majority of the subsequent years.’’ He speaks cautiously as if he’s unsure of what Mary is prying for.   
‘‘Have they had many love interests?’’   
Castiel snorts at that and takes another sip before replying.   
‘‘Women are often brought back to hotel rooms, mainly accompanying Dean, actually less so recently...’’ he trails off in thought.  
‘‘But have they had any serious relationships?’’   
‘‘Ummm yes, none that were wholly successful. Dean lived with a woman called Lisa and her son for a year while he believed Sam to be in the ca- uh otherwise indisposed. When Dean and I were in purgatory for a year, Sam lived with a woman called Amelia. I think Dean had a long term girlfriend before I met him, Cassie perhaps. Of course Sam had Jess.’’   
Yes she had heard about Jess; Dean had told her quietly whilst he was washing the impala, about a beautiful blonde girl Sam had been intent on proposing to.   
‘‘What about you Castiel? Any conquests to tell of.’’   
‘‘I tried sex once but again not wholly successful,’’ he leans forward dramatically.   
‘‘She killed me.’’   
Mary doesn’t know where to gasp or laugh at the candid confession and so settles for something of a surprised snort.   
‘‘But Dean is available currently then.’’ To which Cas nods sharply.  
‘‘And you and him aren’t...’’ she gesticulates with her hands and Cas splutters slightly.   
‘‘No no no, him and I don’t- we aren’t uh- no.’’ He finishes lamely with a flush painting both cheeks. Hands firmly grasped around his mug, he lifts it to his lips though Mary watched him finish his coffee two minutes ago. Pulling her mouth into a firmly neutral line to conceal a smile she pushes on.   
‘‘I just presumed since you two are so close that there was something. You seem to have these moments sometimes like it’s just the two of you.’’   
Cas sips again at his empty cup.   
‘‘I suppose we do have something of a profound bond, after all I did raise him from hell. But I don’t even think Dean is interested in uh- men and for all intents and purposes I am male.’’   
Mary nods knowingly.  
‘‘You almost certainly know him better than I, but from an outsiders perspective, I wouldn’t assume too quickly. Dean strikes me as more fluid than he would appear.’’   
Castiel gives her a wan smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.   
‘‘Even if he did, it doesn’t mean anything. In all the years I’ve know him nothing has progressed, he acts the same as the day we met.’’   
Mary says nothing but thinks, perhaps this whole time all they needed was a little push

**Author's Note:**

> This will be added to... at some point


End file.
